Random scribblings -- poems, song lyrics, novel excerpts, maybe a short story a time or two, possibly even a drawing once in a while, an occasional rant -- from the last 25 years or so, with no claim made for their merit or value, simply a demonstration of their existence.

Friday, August 19, 2011

These are commonplaces:
No one knows freedom as one in prison
What's most important to the dead
is that they're dead
There is no love without loss
There is no life without love
So what can I tell you?
Where can the gypsies go?
How free are the guards?

More than this we need not know:
He was too young, no more than a boy, hardly
He was brave and mistaken in defense of an estate
On which his own purchase was too recent
To permit him true realization of its value
Someone somewhere missed him greatly, or would have someday
Left to his own devices he might have found a better way of dying, and
The world was no better for his parting
He has his counterpart on the other side
More than this we need not know
And never have I been to war, and never will I go